


Laundry Day

by as_with_a_sunbeam



Series: Yellow Fever [3]
Category: 18th Century CE RPF, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: 1793, Aftermath, Chores, F/M, Fluff, Quarantine, Romance, Yellow Fever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:14:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23623717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/as_with_a_sunbeam/pseuds/as_with_a_sunbeam
Summary: Eliza and Alexander are quarantined at Fair Hill as they slowly recover from yellow fever. Eliza has a good deal of cleaning to tackle before they can pack to leave for Albany. Of course, with Alexander, even the most mundane of chores could never be boring.__Hamliza fluff for the days of quarantine
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/Elizabeth "Eliza" Schuyler
Series: Yellow Fever [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/687522
Comments: 18
Kudos: 111





	Laundry Day

Eliza inhaled sharply when she felt arms sliding around her waist, and the washboard she’d been using to scrub the sheets slipped into the large tub of water. Relaxing a moment later as she recognized the hands resting over her stomach, she sighed and wiped at the sweat beading on her forehead. “You startled me, sweetheart.”

“Sorry,” Alexander muttered behind her, even as he squeezed her tighter. She could feel him pressed up against her back, his nose nuzzling behind her ear. “What are you doing?”

Her brow rose as she turned in his arms to look back at him. “What does it look like?”

“You’re meant to be resting, not doing laundry. Ned’s orders.”

“You’re not resting either,” she charged. He’d been replying to correspondence in his office when she’d headed downstairs, desperate for something useful to do. The house felt so empty and quiet with no children. “I saw you working.”

“I am so. I wrote one letter, then I took a nap. I only just woke up.” His hair was slightly mussed, and a slight pillow crease was visible on the side of his cheek, she noted, both attesting to the nap. 

Anxious concern for him surfaced all over again. Napping was unusual for him, and any sign of fatigue or ailment had her on edge with the threat of a relapse dangling overhead. She couldn’t lose him, couldn’t watch his health deteriorate again after all they’d been through. The memories of his delirium, of rubbing his back through piles of blankets while he shook with fever, of shaking beside him days later, it all felt far too fresh.

“You don’t feel sick, do you?” 

He pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I’m fine, my angel. I’m more concerned about you. I don’t want you overtaxing yourself.”

“I’m not.” She scrutinized his face to reassure herself that he was being truthful. “I’m nearly finished with the washing.”

Her arms wrapped around his waist, eliciting a low rumble of laughter from him. “You’re getting me all wet,” he complained, eyes sparkling with amusement.

She nudged at his nose affectionately and stole a kiss. “I wanted to be sure we’d washed everything before we pack for Albany.”

“Can’t Mary do that for you?”

“The most pressing items needing washing are our sheets and nightclothes from when we were ill. She doesn’t need to be touching those.” 

He hummed softly in agreement. “Do you want some help?”

“You want to scrub dirty sheets with me?”

“I want to be with you,” he replied easily. After another loving squeeze, he released her and began rolling up his sleeves. “And we can’t exactly go out for a night on the town, can we?”

“True enough.” Philadelphia was entirely shut up in the wake of the deadly yellow fever outbreak, and what little there might have been to do still in the city surely would have been closed to them, having been so recently victims of the fever themselves.

They’d both been recovered for days, and apart a little fatigue and fogginess, neither of them had shown signs of relapse or descent into the deadly phase of the disease. Ned Stevens had pressed them to remain in their country home, resting and recovering properly before setting out to Albany to reunite with their little ones, but even he had agreed there was no reason to wait much longer. A few days more would prove they were no longer contagious and fully out of danger.

Alexander collected another washboard from the wall and scrutinized the laundry pile.

“Good Lord, I thought you said you were washing our sheets and nightclothes.”

“Well, I brought down a few more things,” she admitted, glancing at the dripping pile of clean laundry.

“A few? It looks like you emptied out our closets.”

“Maybe. Almost.” Better safe than sorry, she’d decided, as she’d raided their wardrobes earlier. “I just don’t want to risk bringing any sickness to Albany with us.”

He ran a thumb over the clothes, a crooked smile on his lips. “This is everything I own. I almost expected my old uniform to be in here.”

“Your uniform that hasn’t fit you in more than a decade?” she teased. “No, that at least I figured was probably safe.” 

“Hey,” he said, faux offense on his face. “Not nice.”

She rolled her eyes. “Honey, you were measured for that uniform when you were nineteen and one bowl of rice away from starving to death. That you don’t fit in it anymore is one of my proudest achievements.”

He laughed and patted his stomach. “That’s fair enough.” 

His waistcoat hung looser on him than it had before, reminding her yet again of toll the fever had taken on him. “You could use a little more fattening up, though, I think.”

“Not just me,” he said, giving her a significant look.

“I know,” she sighed. Her dresses didn’t fit nearly as well as they had only a week prior. “We could both use a few good, hearty meals.”

“Very true. Maybe I’ll cook for us after I finish laundry.”

“I don’t see how poisoning us is going to help,” she said with a Cheshire grin. 

“Now you’re just being mean.”

She made a silly face, prompting another laugh from him. The sound eased something tight in her chest. His laugh was her favorite sound in the world.

After selecting one of his grungier looking nightshirts, he plunged the board into the water and reached for the lye soap before beginning to scrub at the cotton material. She watched him fondly for a moment before fishing in the warm, soapy water of the tub for her own board to continue working at the stubborn stain on their bed sheets.

“You’re a natural,” she praised when he held the shirt up for her inspection. Though dripping wet, she could see the material was white once more, rather than the unpleasant gray it had become after days of sweat and sickness. “Perhaps I’ll put you in charge of our laundry from now on.”

“It’s not the worst task I’ve ever undertaken,” he said, laying the shirt on the pile to be hung for drying. “Though this soap isn’t very pleasant. My hands have already gone red.”

“Poor darling,” she cooed facetiously. 

He made a face and splashed soapy water towards her, drenching her apron. Gasping a laugh, she splashed water right back at him, soaking his waistcoat thoroughly. He frowned down at himself.

“How efficient. Why wait until you’ve taken the clothes off to wash them?”

“You could take them off now,” she suggested. “I wouldn’t mind.”

He grinned. “Naughty girl. Are you always this saucy when you do laundry?”

She splashed more water towards him. He splashed back, water sloshing over the sides of the tub and all over the floor. She couldn’t have minded less.

His whole face was scrunched with laughter as he scrambled backwards trying to avoid even more water. “Stop it,” he gasped, nearly doubled over laughing. 

“You started it,” she parried, laughing too.

How good it felt, laughing with him like this, after all that terror they’d just lived through. She stumbled over to him, teary-eyed with laughter even as she nearly slipped on the soapy water, and wrapped her arms around his neck. He squeezed her against him in an embrace.

“If I’d known laundry was this much fun, I’d have started helping a long time ago.”

“Hush,” she said, kissing him again, her teeth dragging gently over his full lower lip.

**Author's Note:**

> After surviving yellow fever in 1793, Eliza and Alexander were quarantined together both in Philadelphia while they recovered and then again in Albany, where they traveled to collect their children. I was in the mood for something light and fluffy with them caring for each other and keeping each other cheerful, as we all navigate our own versions of quarantines. Hope everyone is staying healthy!
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! Hope you enjoyed! As always, feedback is greatly appreciated!


End file.
